Mental Break
by GlorifiedHigh
Summary: "OH NO!" I cried, "I'm in a mental institution!" Silence. "Ano. I guess Kakashi-Sensei is kind of weird looking." The blonde was immediately hit on the head by the masked man but his attention was easily turned to me.
1. Prologue

Ever get that feeling that life couldn't possibly get any worse? Of course you have – we all have. I can't help but ask myself that question at least thirty times a day. Granted, every time I do life decides to thrust another platter of chaos into my hands… so maybe that's my own fault.

I've never been lucky – in fact, I'm pretty sure I'm one of the most unlucky people on the planet. Don't believe me?

When I was 4 – I passed out from a heat stroke while eating an ice cream by the pool. I ended up knocking my head on a garden gnome and then toppling over into the pool unconscious. I almost drowned. At 10, I was decorating the Christmas tree and somehow managed to get the Christmas lights wrapped around my neck and then fell off the latter. I almost choked to death. At 14, I spilled fruit punch on Molly Henderson's homecoming dress – sure, she wasn't the most popular girl in school but she was the one most likely to kick the shit out of anyone who got in her way. I ended up in the hospital with a broken leg. As for Molly, well her parents were exceptionally wealthy and blew it off as self-defense.

The last two years have been especially tragic. My parents were in the middle of a gruesome divorce – though that anyone could have seen coming. My mother was your typical shrill-voiced nagging "stay at home" Mom. You know those women who hold those parties where some guy comes to your house and sells you stainless steel pots and pans? She's one of those. A lot of friends, a lot of clothes, a lot of drama. Think of it as a less glamorous version of that reality TV show "Housewives."

Father makes enough money for us to live a pretty decent lifestyle. He works for some insurance company, we never see him because he's always away on business. I honestly don't know much about him. We do look eerily alike though. Same curly brown hair, big light brown eyes – it freaks me out a bit. I've probably seen him twice in the past three years.

My older brother, Benji, is one of those douche bag gays. Yes, and by gay I mean homosexual. We used to hang out a lot – it was surprising considering the six-year-age difference between us. But then he got into drugs and the club scene after he graduated college. He was seemingly unaffected by the divorce. He never got along with my mother – having a gay son was enough to crank her crazy Stepford meter to a thousand. She kept trying to hide him from her friends and make him seem 'less gay.' It was embarrassing to watch. Luckily for him, my father loves him – he was always his favorite. Sometimes he would take him on business trips and he'd always stop by for his birthday.

It's not surprising that they have a more profound bond. Before I was born my parents marriage was seemingly happy and carefree. Not that I'm saying I'm the catalyst to their unfortunate divorce – I just happened to be born at an unlucky time in their lives.

So, for me, neither of my parents ever cared much.

Mother tried to, but once she realized that I wasn't a mini her, she dropped me like a hot potato – excuse me, once she realized she couldn't mold me into a mini her – that's when she started ignoring me.

I suppose it was my unwillingness to 'go above and beyond' that stifled her. To most, I'm quite boring. I'm one of those quiet non shy types. I don't talk to people willingly – I go through life as a casted shadow. It sounds sad, but I'm quite content with my life. Or at least that's what I make myself believe.

It was my unlucky tendencies that caused my life to ruin even more. Mr. Gerald – my school's principal – is to blame. Or maybe Mrs. Margraph… I suppose I should explain.

I go to a private school in New York City. You know, like Gossip Girl, except everyone really is a stuck up snob and not ridiculously good-looking or nice. Mrs. Margraph, my English professor, assigned us a poetry assignment the previous day – which I did but apparently not to her standards. She randomly selected students to read theirs out loud and considering my luck, I was one of those students.

"Mr. Garfield! Why don't you stop tracing your primitive roots and show us what poetic genius your brain is capable of!" Mrs. Margraph called out, in an air of dramatic exuberance.

She was a busty older woman. Crazy gray hair, large thin rimmed round glasses, floral printed ankle dress and a shawl around her shoulders that only added more to her dramatics. The most attributing feature on her had to be her ice blue eyes – that glare was enough to shut anyone up. It was like staring into the soul of Satan… decked in a floral dress and shawl. Comedic really, but still frightening.

Larry, also known as 'Mr. Garfield', turned away from his jock friends and stood next to his desk.

With a charming smile he replied, "Why of course, Sweetheart."

I scoffed. This kid was always a snarky little git. One of the 'populars'. You know exactly what I'm talking about. He wasn't exactly attractive – just a snob and a great soccer player. The fact that his dad was disgustingly wealthy didn't hurt either.

He reached down and grabbed his paper, and after clearing his throat, he began to read.

"Butts are big. Butts are nice. Let me slap. Your butt twice."

The class erupted in laughter, sans myself. I stared on disbelieving. '_Didn't we have to pass an entrance exam to get into this school…. How this kid got in is truly a mystery.' _I thought.

"MR. GARFIELD! That is inappropriate! DETENTION! NOW!" the professor screamed, icy glare erect and in place.

Larry scuffled out of the class, but not after receiving high-fives and pats on the back from his fellow meat heads.

I sighed dejectedly. _'20 more minutes and then I'm out of here…' _I began staring longingly at the clock.

"Ms. Romaine!"

I whipped up my head, curly hair smacking me in the face.

"Since you find watching the clock more interesting than my lecture, I assume you have something exceptional to share with the class." Mrs. Margraph stared at me expectantly.

I stared back, mouth agape.

"…Do you want me to read my poem or… tell you what I was thinking while watching the clock…?" I mumbled back.

Silent chuckles could be heard throughout the class, which only fueled the Professors temper.

"A smartass are we? READ YOUR POEM!" She shot me that bone chilling glare.

I jumped out of my chair at her outburst, enticing another wave of chuckles.

I tentatively grabbed my assignment and began to read.

"'Just get over it, they say  
I wish I could find a way  
Living with it day by day  
Memories won't go away

Medication helps to sway  
Many feelings of dismay  
But they do fail to decay  
The loss that one does survey"

I paused when I heard someone clearing their throat. I nervously glanced around and was shocked by the horrified expression on my Professor's face.

"Oh my…" she said, "my dear…" She stared on at me with eyes full of pity and fear.

I stared at her confused, "Uhm, am I missing something?"

"Suicide is not something to joke about, Ms. Romaine!"

I spluttered, "SUICIDE?! I'm not suicidal!"

With that, she sent me to the principal's office – where Mr. Gerald called my Mother.

Apparently she thought I planned on overdosing on medications or something. Sure, it sounds ridiculous, but you have to understand my life is like an episode of Punk'd except Ashton never comes out and the prank goes on forever.

"SUICIDAL! How UNGRATEFUL can you be! And so inconsiderate!" My mother screamed on the way home.

"First a gay and now a wrist cutter…" she muttered.

"MOM," I sighed, "I'm not suicidal, it's just a misunderstanding."

She scoffed, "A misunderstanding? I knew it all along. I knew there was something wrong with you and here you are! Wanting to off yourself, like some kind of gothic heathen! Like you're the only person with problems! You know there are kids out there who don't get the luxuries you do! They don't get nice clothes or coach bags!"

"I don't have coach bags…" I sighed.

"IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!? A COACH BAG!? Will it end this nonsensical spiel of self-pity?!"

I stared at her incredulously. Tentatively, I placed my fingers on my forehead already feeling the beginnings of a migraine.

The next afternoon I found myself on the same couch I'm on now. Staring blankly at the ceiling and regretting my decision to not take the coach bag, because now I was with the shrink and this guy was the most annoying man I've ever come across.


	2. Tsk, Tsk You should know better

"Ms. Romaine?"

I turned my head towards Satan – 'Dr. Edgar but you may call me Stan' he says.

He was an older man, probably around his late-sixties. He looked like Freud except with more modern glasses and a douche-like smile. I despised him. I've been here for three weeks and he already diagnosed me with some weird personality disorder along with moderate depression and suicidal tendencies. I personally believe he just throws shit out there just to make more money.

"Why don't you tell me about your day?" He asked with a tight-lipped smile.

He was sitting across from me in a very vintage Elizabethan looking chair. His legs were crossed and his hands folded over my file and his notebook.

I sighed heavily throwing my arm over my eyes while I laid on the awkward chair-bed, "I woke up. I went to school. I went to the book store. I bought some books—"

"Aha! What books did you buy…?"

"I don't know some science fiction book about the upcoming apocalypse."

"Tsk, tsk." I heard followed by an intense scribbling noise coming from his notebook.

'_The hell does that mean?' _I removed my arm and stared menacingly at his notebook '_I wish I could burn that notebook. I wonder what load of crap he has in there." _I scowled.

"So you believe there is an upcoming apocalypse?"

I scrunched my nose, "No, I just like reading about—"

"Why would a young girl such as yourself, like reading about that?"

I ran my hand down my face, "Because. It's interesting."

"Interesting…because you wish it would happen?"

"It'll probably happen regardless, I mean we're using up all our resources and humans aren't the brightest of species – in fact, we're very arrogant."

"Tsk." He began scribbling again.

I felt my temper flare. "Can you stop doing that?"

"Doing what? Tsk." He threw back with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"That stupid noise and your incessant scribbling."

"Well, this 'scribbling' is my job and what noise?"

I stared at him incredulously, "That 'TSK' noise you keep doing."

He stared back, a twinkling in his eye, "I didn't make a 'tsk' noise."

I grumbled. This guy was such an asshole. He's been 'tsking' since day one and it's seriously pissing me off.

"WHY ARE YOU LYING!?" I yelled raising myself to a sitting position.

"Ms. Romaine, take some deep breaths and calm down. It's natural that someone of your caliber would experience these symptoms."

I scoffed. _'Was this guy for real?' _

"What symptoms?" I gritted out annoyed at the turn of conversation.

"Hallucinations of course."

I gaped at him, "HALLUCINATIONS!? YOU THINK I'M HALLUCINATING!? ARE YOU CRAZY!?" I screamed.

"There's no need for raised voices…"

I shut my eyes, trying to keep my temper in check. It was obvious since day one that this guy did not like me.

"You know what," I rose from the chair-bed, "I'm out of here." I began walking towards the door.

"Ms. Romaine!" He exclaimed, "You are not authorized to leave here until your hour is up. So please come sit—"

I spun on my heel, "YOU. ARE. AN. ASSHOLE. I would rather throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge than listen to your snarky little satanic voice! So no! I will not SIT THE HELL BACK DOWN. YOU CAN SIT DOWN and MAYBE while you're at it, you can take that notebook and shove it up your ass!" Panting slightly from my outburst, I fled the office.

Once outside, I began running down the streets of Manhattan and immediately regretted my outburst, especially my choice of words.

'_Really? REALLY? You just had to say you'd rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge! They already think you're suicidal!' _

I made it to Central Park where I started walking to calm down. I took in the scenery. The children playing. The shining sun. The elderly couples playing chess on the walkway.

_'Why couldn't I be at ease like them? Why couldn't I just have a seemingly normal life?' _I glowered to myself.

I walked for hours and eventually took my place on a patch of grass and immersed myself in the noise of city life.

There was nothing quite like NYC – sure most tourist who come complain about the noise, the smells, the hobos etc. but these noises lulled me to sleep – the honking of the taxis, the children's laughter, the occasional New York spat. It truly was a soothing experience for me.

I rolled onto my side, fixing my school uniform in the process and sighed dejectedly_. 'I'll have to face Mother sooner or later. Might as well get it over.'_

I slowly rose from the grass and began wiping off my yellow plaid skirt. The sun was setting rather quickly, so I knew I had to get out of Central Park soon. It would be idiotic for me to venture around here alone… especially in a school uniform. That makes me an even bigger target.

As I turned to head home, I realized something quite strange.

I gazed at the surrounding terrain. It was eerily unfamiliar and almost ominous.

The trees were taller… the ground was, somehow, harder…but the biggest difference was that I couldn't hear the roar of taxis or the burst of city life. There were no screaming cheers of children or laughing teenagers. No soft mummers of conversation coming from the elderly. No skateboards, no bikes, nothing.

It was dead silent.

My head filled with panic and my heart pumped faster. I frantically looked around and then ran in the direction I thought was home. Trees upon trees kept passing and I kept hoping for a clearing into the streets or a sound – any sound.

As I continued further the trees got thicker and the skies grew darker. My school uniform snagged on branches as the forest became more condensed.

Becoming more frantic and evermore clumsy, my legs gave out and I stumbled over some rocks and down a hill. Rolling and rolling my thoughts and frantic heart beat slowed as I hit my head on a nearby log.

Fading in and out of nothingness. I was out like a light, but not before asking that ever-present question:

'_Can this get any worse?'_


	3. Strange, Stranger, Strangest HELP?

Whispering. I heard faint whispering.

I couldn't remember where I was or what happened. My eyes wouldn't open. My body couldn't move. I felt stiff and heavy and very, very tired.

I began recalling earlier events. My shrink. My outburst. Central Park. Falling. I mentally cringed at the thought. How can one's life suck so badly?

Gaining my sense of smell, or rather, just realizing I could smell something strange. I smelled… formaldehyde? _'OH MY GOD. AM I DEAD?'_

I groaned.

"EHHHH. She's awake!" something yelled.

I clutched my head in pain at the loudness of said thing.

"Baka! Stop being loud! This is a hospital!" An equally loud person responded.

I squinted, and soon my eyes opened. My vision was blurry but became increasingly clear with each passing moment.

I saw white walls and a hanging lamp. A heart rate monitor next to the bed….or at least I thought it was a heart rate monitor.

_'Oh no. A hospital…' _I cringed. _'It was obvious someone would find me lying unconscious in the middle of Central Park…'_

I turned my head towards the people in the room and saw… four people, three guys, two of which seemed around my age and one older and a girl also around my age.

They stared and I stared back. Realization dawned on me as I took in their strange appearances. I sat up quickly and shoved my head in my hands letting out a groan of frustration.

"OH NO!" I cried, "I'm in a mental institution!"

"WHAT!?" screamed the blonde boy, "You're not in a crazy house!"

I stared at him incredulously, "Really?" I deadpanned.

"Uh huh!" He grinned, quite wolfishly.

"Then explain to me the girl with pink hair, a man with gravity defying gray hair and a mask on his face looking like some sort of serial killer, a creepy depressed looking guy and you with your loudness and inability to keep still?"

Silence.

"Ano. I guess Kakashi-Sensei is kind of weird-looking." The blonde was immediately hit on the head by the masked man but his attention was easily turned to me.

"You're not in a mental institution. You're in Konoha hospital. We found you outside the village passed out and took you here for healing. I am Hatake Kakashi and this," he pointed to the blonde who was still clutching his head, "is Uzumaki Naruto," he then pointed to the pink haired girl, "Haruno Sakura," he then pointed to the freaky quiet one, "and Sai."

I fidgeted with the blankets on the bed, "Oh. Well, I'm Becca. Uh, thanks for saving me. I was lost. Uh, can you guys tell me where I can get a taxi so I can head home?" I dared not ask if they called my Mother. There's no way they could have – I left my bag, with my cell phone in it, with Satan. '_Wonderful_.'

I was met with confused stares.

"Ano, Becca-chan. What's a Tax-Ee?" Asked the blonde - Uzumaki.

I face palmed. "You know? A big yellow car that takes you places?"

"Eh? Car?" inquired Hatake.

"Are you sure this isn't a mental institution?" I gasped, "ARE YOU GUYS MESSING WITH ME?! IS THIS SOME KIND OF SICK INITIATION JOKE!?" I screamed while pointing an accusing finger at the two.

My questions were left unanswered when a blonde woman with Pam Anderson boobs walked in the room followed by a black haired woman with a….pig.

_'Oh my goodness….I really am in a crazy house…' _

"Ah, good you're awake." Blonde woman said, "We can begin. I am Tsunade. I am the Hokage. Who are you? Where did you come from? What are your intentions with Konoha? Are you a spy? Don't. Lie."

I stared dumbfounded.

"Err. Hi. I'm Becca. I came from New York City. I don't have any intentions. And no?"

Tsunade stared at me. Scrutinizing my every move. "What is this Nu-Yor-k City?"

My jaw dropped. '_Is she serious? Are these people crazy? Or am I crazy? WHAT IF NEW YORK NEVER EXISTED?! What If Dr. Edgar was right…omg. I'm going crazy… Is this a joke?'_

I swallowed, "It's…a city… in New York. In the United States of America?"

"Stop speaking nonsense! Are you a spy!?" Tsunade began getting in my face.

I scrambled further up the bed towards the headboard, "WH-WHAT!? No! Who am I going to spy on! I don't even know where I am! I'm no pervert!"

At my last response I heard snickering coming from Uzumaki, as he nudged Hatake.

I shook off the obvious inside joke and faced the blonde lady again.

She stared at me for a while longer and sighed making her appear old and exhausted.

"She has next to no Chakra. There's no way she can be a threat." She stated.

_'….Chakra? The hell is Chakra?' _

"What if she's just good at hiding it…it would make her a good spy," replied Hatake nonchalantly.

I glared at him. '_Way to make things worse!'_

"Hmm. Maybe. She seems genuine." Tsunade countered.

"Yeah and SHE is right HERE," I mumbled.

"So be it," Tsunade started, "Take her to interrogation just to be safe."

"NANI!? Baa-chan," Naruto started, "She doesn't need to be interrogated!"

"Shut up, Naruto! And stop calling me that. SHOW SOME RESPECT!" Tsunade sighed, "We won't be giving her a shinobi interrogation, we'll just have Ibiki ask her some questions. That's all."

I was beyond confused.' _What the heck is this place? And interrogation? If that Uzumaki kid is freaking out should I be freaking out?!'_

I huffed, "Ok. That sounds perfect and all but what is going on? And what's shinobi is that like some kind of secret organization like the CIA?"

Everyone stared at me like I was crazy.

"I have rights! I am an American! You can't keep me here!"

Tsunade sighed for the millionth time, "The sooner this is over the better. I don't have time for this nonsense." With that she and the pig lady left, only to have two men in animal masks walk in.

They were dressed in strange outfits with some kind of bullet proof vests and swords on their backs. '_Was this really necessary? What is going on…?' _They sported these strange animal masks – which reminded me of a horror movie. One had a dog mask and the other a chicken…

"Come with us," the one in the chicken mask stated.

I slowly got out of bed, straightening out my crinkled uniform skirt when I felt a hand on my arm.

I turned towards Uzumaki.

"Don't worry Becca-chan! Everything will be O.K!" he said with a grin.

I tried grinning back, but I was too confused to process what an appropriate human response would have been, so I settled for a confused head tilt.

I followed the mask men out of the room, not after seeing all the sympathetic looks from my saviors. We went down some stairs and then through a series of passageways. Even if I did plan on escaping, it would have been futile. I had no idea where I was.

I sighed.

We finally came to a halt outside of what I considered the interrogation room – it looked just like the ones you'd see on some kind of CSI show or something.

"Get in and wait. Ibiki will be here soon." chicken mask said. I complied, but only because he looked like he belonged in Slipknot or the Insane Clown Posse and that frightened me.

I walked in the room and immediately sat at the table facing away from the glass and from then on, I waited.

* * *

I've been in the interrogation room for roughly two hours – alone.

No one, not one person, had come in.

I began speculating. Perhaps they were watching me… maybe this was a test to see if I'd escape. Regardless, I remained rooted to the spot.

By the third hour, I was getting annoyed.

_'Where the hell was this Ibiki person?'_

I sighed and banged my head on the table, when suddenly there was an explosion.

I jumped out of the chair. The vibrations shook the entire building. I could hear rocks crumbling from the ceiling.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered to myself. "OMG did I do that!?' I stared at the table I just head-banged… '_Nonsense! Stop being stupid. Though, one thing is for sure. I'm not sticking around to find out._'

I went to grab the door handle. With hope, I turned it slowly – knowing that my attempt would be futile. My face morphed into disbelief when it opened without resistance…

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" I screamed. I stepped into the hallways and no one was there. I felt suspicious but with my heart beating at a thousand beats per minute, I decided not to stall. So I ran.

I ran in the opposite direction I came from, in case the chicken masked man and his friend came back to catch me. '_Or kill me…'_ I immediately shook those thoughts from my mind, '_Don't think like that…'_

Eventually, I came to a dead-end with a door, but as I tried the door handle – I found much to my obvious misfortune, that it was locked.

"SHI-!" my curse was cut short by an explosion directly to my right.

I dropped to the floor at record speed and covered my arms over my head for protection. Once the rubble and smoke subsided I gazed up and noticed two figures standing among the shadows.

'_Oh god. Oh god. It was a test! They were watching the whole time! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL ME.'_


End file.
